This Place is Weird Now.

Clearing out a parents house after they’ve moved to another facility or passed away isn’t a new experience at all. It’s something that most people on the planet will have to go through one day. It doesn’t matter what country, culture or background you’re from. It’s something that’s almost universal throughout every humans life and I’m not claiming that what I’m experiencing or my emotions are unique in any way. But I am experiencing them.

We moved my mom back to the city after her Dementia got to the point where she couldn’t fully care for herself on her own in such a remote location. The move was a rescue mission and we came out, grabber her and her very little packed belongings and took her out of the home that she thought she would grow old in with Dad. The house sat dormant over the winter and now that the weather is nice, I’ve been able to start trekking out to clean and care for the place. This used to be somewhere that I looked forward to visiting. It’s a place that I truly enjoyed spending a few years after Dad passed. It’s somewhere that when it was first built was so full of joy, hope and laughter. Even after, the air still held onto those old, happy emotions. The mood has clearly shifted in the house in general, however.

Losing your life partner so suddenly can cause significant trauma and significant sorrow which I do believe can be absorbed by spaces. When I got back from being overseas the vibe in the house had very clearly changed. There was so much sadness in this place. Thankfully the community here rallied around us and helped bring this house back to being a home and back to somewhere that was a spot to make good memories. For many years it was enjoyed by my Mom, myself, and countless other friends and families. Things are different now though.

The air in the house has gone from happiness and comfort to something that’s chaotic. There’s a new sadness here that is almost sinister in nature. I think this can be attributed to the most recent developments with my mother and her being here by herself. Having to deal with the trauma of losing her partner and also dealing with her own health issues has left something here that makes my skin crawl. Every box I move and every file I go through, makes my hair stand up on the back of my neck/arms and it’s all I can think about in the weeks/days leading up to my arrivals here. It’s almost as if the joy, hope, happiness, and comfort are fighting for the same space as the sadness, chaos, trauma, and sorrow. The more time I spend here and every room that gets cleaned seems to help lift some of the negativity here but I can still feel it. It’s something that feels like it’s lurking around every room and every activity. It’s almost as if it soaked into the floor boards, the walls, and the furniture while the house was locked up. It catches in my throat and makes this task feel like something insurmountable and monumental. At the same time, I can look out the window and feel totally at peace. I can sit on the deck here for hours and watch the sunset on the mountains without so much as a sad or chaotic thought. It’s like both the worlds are colliding in this place and I hope eventually the happiness wins.